


There's Virtue In Truth and There's Truth In Good Wine (Or; An Idiot and A Gentleman)

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Bickering, Childishness, Explicit Language, F/M, First Crush, First Love, Friendship/Love, Play Fighting, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Underage Drinking, Underage Masturbation, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the course of three glasses of wine, Arya navigates her feelings for Gendry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Virtue In Truth and There's Truth In Good Wine (Or; An Idiot and A Gentleman)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from In Vino Veritas by Benjamin Cooke. I'm clearing out and finishing fics from my unfinished oneshots folder (how many times have I said that) and this is from 2013. I can't remember if it's book canon or show canon (I don't think it matters) but I tagged it as both. I think I wrote it as closure for them parting ways without discussing the elephant in the room, I don't know.

It wasn’t the first time she’d tasted wine but it was the first time it hadn’t been cut with water. Her father wasn’t here to hold a hand over her cup when she tried to fill it for a second time and he wasn’t there to stop her downing it far too quickly than was polite. It was strong and sharp, Dornish if the woman that owns the place is to be believed. But it didn’t matter to her, the way it made her head rush, it could be rain water and she wouldn’t know.

The wine had made her bold, loud and a tiny bit brash; it made her want to join in with the boys fighting each other for coins. Some of them could be twice her age and there were more than a few twice her size but she still looked at them longingly, wishing she was allowed to join in.

It had been Gendry that started the contest, they needed horses and to get horses they needed money. She’d thought it was a brilliant idea and told him so but he’d shot down her hopes of participating.

“What am I going to say when we get to Riverrun and you’re covered in scars and bruises? _Sorry, m’lady Stark, but I stood by and let your little lady get her head kicked in for a few pennies_. No.”

“Shhh, will you! Besides I can fight better than you; perhaps I’ll kick your head in,” she said by way of defiance but she stayed in her seat when Gendry’s scowl said she wouldn’t win.

So instead, as an act of rebellion she ordered a flagon of wine and paid for it using the money Gendry had won them so far. Hot Pie had won them nothing but he had brought her some bread and cheese, so he wasn’t entirely useless.

She glanced sideways at the fighters again. Gendry was fighting now and she didn’t want him to think she was watching out of jealousy. Even though she was. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, from the speed of his parries and the strength of his thrusts, he’d accidentally broken two wooden swords already being too heavy handed with them. She watched as his muscles tensed, bracing for a blow as he had no shield to hold up in defense. She watched as sweat dripped over his naked chest from the effort.

Suddenly the room pitched, making her dizzy and queasy. Something twisting in her stomach like she’d swallowed a wild creature. For a second she through she’d be sick but it subsided as quickly as it had come upon her, leaving her light headed. 

While she’d been distracted, Gendry had won his fight and nobody else seemed to be stepping up. They were all watching him warily, all except Arya who once again was driven by a longing to fight.

She managed to creep up behind him and silently retrieve the discarded second sword from the floor before he noticed her.

“Yeah, very funny. Sit back down,” he said, taking a long drink of whatever was filling his cup.

“I thought you wanted a fight,” Arya said, raising her sword and lining up her feet. For all that Gendry had in brute strength, she would bet her life that she was faster, more agile and had better footwork than him. And that would win the fight. “Or are you scared?”

“I’m not fighting a...” he trailed off, not allowed to finish the sentence. Not without revealing her for whom she truly was. She wasn’t even sure how he would have ended it. A girl? A child? A noble?

“What?” Arya prompted him, daring him to find a decent excuse.

“A friend. I won’t fight a friend,” Gendry said, finally finding the right word.

“Rubbish, I’ve seen you fight with Hot Pie and that’s not even a fair fight.” She glared at him, not sure where to go from where she was, she couldn’t make him fight her but she couldn’t back down without looking like a silly little girl. Then an idea struck her. “So you forfeit?”

“What?” Gendry glanced at the pile of coins he’d won so far. “It’s _our_ money anyway.”

“No, if you forfeit, it would be _my_ money,” she said it in such a tone to let him know she’d be insufferable if that’s what happened.

“Fine.” Gendry raised his wooden sword and prodded it gently in her direction. She could tell he wasn’t putting any effort in.

“Come on, Hot Pie could do better than that. Should I fight him instead?” Arya smiled, the wine making her giddy and confident.

She thrust her sword forward, aiming for his chest but he blocked her, the force of the two swords making the bones in her arm sing but she didn’t wince, she didn’t give him any ground, she just kept pushing forward, ignoring each jar that came with each parry. When he tried to land a blow of his own, she would duck under it, swinging them round, making him dizzy. Then finally one of her own blows landed, almost bouncing of the muscle in his arm but it made her face light up in victory nonetheless. She gave a bit of ground, knowing he would think her distracted and make an open lunge for her. He did and she stepped round him again, this time slipping her ankle between his feet, tripping him. He landed on his outstretched hands but he was down. She threw one leg over him, sitting astride him like he was a horse, and pinning him down with her small weight and her pretend sword.

“Do you submit?” she asked, the tip of the fake blade at his throat and blood rushing in her ears. She could feel sweat prickling down her own skin now and her breath was coming out more strenuously than she would have liked but she had won.

“I submit, m’lady.” He said it sincerely, as though realizing for the first time that she wasn’t just a child, just a girl, she was near a woman grown and nobility. She didn’t like the m’lady bit but she basked in the submission.

“That’s what I thought.” She sat back, throwing the sword aside but she didn’t get up. She felt oddly comfortable where she was. But by then the crowd had gone silent in dismay and Gendry had gotten that look in his eyes again, the shifty one that meant he was thinking about her safety.

He sat up and grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her so she had no choice but to stand. “Bedtime.”

“Gendry!” she protested, not that it had ever done her any good before. “You can’t just send me to bed!”

“I just did, go.” Gendry gave her a push towards the stairs that led up into the room she had to herself, being a girl and all. “I’ll check on you before I go to sleep.”

“Fine!” She gave in, stomping first in the direction of her half-empty flagon and then back towards the stairs. Gendry just stared at her in exasperation.

-x-

The wine had barely filled another glass but she drank it down in three gulps, determined to have her prize before Gendry changed his mind and took it away from her. It made her feel hot and strange again but she didn’t care. She was too busy plotting her retort for when Gendry would no doubt come to lecture her before bed.

Every so often her mind would get stuck, forgetting about insults and lingering on Gendry, making her flush and her skin feel too small. Then she’d get angry with him again and think about him even more intensely, frustration building up inside her until she wanted to scream and she was just down to two thoughts, the bead of sweat trailing down his chest and her pinning him to the floor, making him submit. Her breathing started coming out in great huffs and puffs and she thought for a second she really was going to scream.

She turned her thoughts away from Gendry with an effort, resolving to get dressed for bed so that he didn’t have anything else to berate her with. All she had was a plain wool shift that they’d stolen a few weeks back for her from a clothes basket that wasn’t being too closely watched. She’d washed it several times in the river but she couldn’t get it to stop itching no matter what she tried.

She flung herself on the hard bed, angry at everything, at Gendry for being stupid, at the shift for itching, at the bed for being hard and at herself for being so young, or for being a girl, she wasn’t sure which hampered her more and she’d been resenting both for so long.

She scratched at her thighs where the shift was resting and for a second she felt the anger subside but when she stopped, it flowed back, worse. She dragged her nails further up her legs, pulling the shift up and scratching where it had touched, slowing when she reached the very inside of her thighs. She wanted to keep going, keep scratching at where her frustration seemed to have pooled but she was sure it would hurt so she stilled her fingers, brushing them gently upwards instead.

The sound of wood and metal and the sudden rush of air made her jump, freezing like a deer seeing a hunter. When Gendry’s head appeared round the door, she jumped again, this time moving, pulling her legs up and her shift down. But by the time she’d composed herself, he had disappeared again with a few mumbled words.

She sat for a few seconds, unsure what to do. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment but oddly, she didn’t hate him at that moment and for some reason she couldn’t name, she felt the urge to go after him.

She got up and ran to the door, expecting him to be in his own room by then but he was just outside of her room, one hand pressing it’s fingertips into his eyes, as if trying to push what he’d just seen out of his head and his cheeks were redder than hers. She found herself laughing, again not knowing exactly why. Gendry took his hand away from his face and looked at her like she was mad, blushing even deeper.

“I’m sorry, m’lady, I should have knocked, a gentleman would have knocked.”

“Please, I used to run naked through the Godswood back home and jump into the hot springs. It’s nothing all my other friends haven’t seen.”

“M’lady, that’s not...” he started but she cut him off.

“It’s fine. And stop calling me m’lady and get inside. I don’t really want to stand here in my bedclothes for all to see.”

Gendry shook his head, still not sure he’d apologized enough for what he’d seen and taken aback by how undisturbed she seemed to be by what had happened. He had no other choice but to follow her inside, willing the image to fade from behind his eyes and for his body’s reaction to it to subside. 

He tried to remember why he’d come to her room in the first place. Then the image of her sat in his lap resurfaced, now tainted by the other lingering image and doing nothing for the physical manifestation of it all.

“You shouldn’t have won, it drew attention to you and we’re supposed to be keeping you hidden.”

“You’re only saying that _because_ I won,” Arya said, sitting down on her bed and crossing her arms.

“Everyone was staring.”

“And nobody was staring at you, half naked and... and...” she trailed off, realizing that she probably had been the only one staring. “It doesn’t matter, forget it. I won’t fight again. Happy?”

“M’lady...” he started, almost out of habit now. “Arya,” he corrected himself. “We can’t keep on like this.”

“I said I won’t fight.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He stared at her for a second, in his mind she kept flitting between a child and a woman, it didn’t occur to him that she could be both, she could be caught somewhere in between. “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

Arya was quiet for a second, turning her feelings over in her head, rethinking his reactions and what had caused them. “I think so.”

“Well, you have to stop it,” he said, although he knew the blame wasn’t just on her, it was on him as well.

“I haven’t done anything! I mean, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t think about it.” She felt the anger and frustration rise up again. “This isn’t my fault; you can’t blame me for something I don’t know.” She stood up and paced towards him, probably to push him back through the door but she hadn’t figured it out by the time she was within arm’s reach and he caught her first, grabbing her by the shoulders. She screamed and kicked at him but he held her steady, kneeling down so they were of the same height.

“How can you not know what you’re doing?” he said gently and for a split second Arya understood why he sometimes behaved the way he did, he was angry and frustrated like she was, but his thoughts were of her, that’s what she was doing, she was fuelling his thoughts. She stopped fighting and stilled in his hands but he didn’t seem to notice the difference. “You have to be the most infuriating, maddening, rude little highborn girl that ever existed. You will most likely be the death of me and yet... I have to keep you safe. I have to keep you close. I have to protect you and you won’t let me. You won’t even let me save you from me. And that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard, pardon me, m’lady.”

Arya rolled her eyes, the crass tongues of men was something she barely blinked at anymore but the idea of her having to be saved, like one of the daft girls in Sansa’s stories grated on her. “I don’t need protecting and the idea I need saving from you is laughable, I could have beaten you bloody out there and without me, you would have been carted back to King’s Landing or killed. So shut up, will you?”

There was a second where the air between them seemed thicker, at least to Arya it did, and the world seemed to be tipping her forward, closer to him.

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore. I can’t keep...”

Arya pulled back, like she’d touched white hot iron, real anger rising in her this time, masking fear. “Go then. Leave me. I’ll fend for myself. I don’t need you!”

“That’s not what I...”

“Go on, go!” She pushed him, but he barely moved.

“Arya...”

The sound of her name, so rarely spoken now, sparked fear again and tears stung her unwilling eyes. She didn’t want to be alone. He was all she had. “I said... I don’t need you.”

“Stop crying,” Gendry said with a sigh, reaching out and wiping under her eyes with his thumbs, leaving trails of dirt on her skin where his hands had broken a dozen falls earlier that night.

“I’m not crying,” she denied. She knew she was and she hated it. She hated him. She...

“And I’m not leaving you.” Gendry nearly pulled her into his body, in an attempt at comfort, but then he remembered what had started this stupid fight to begin with.

“You’re not?” Arya asked, still shaking on the inside.

“I never said I was, just...” he took in a breath and Arya found herself doing the same. “You can’t love me like you do, it’s not good.”

Arya nearly laughed. To her love was a flowery thing that only affected princesses and poets. She was sure it would never infect her. “I don’t love you, don’t be ridiculous. I mean, you infuriate me to the point I can’t get you out of my thoughts and I really wish you’d stop doing everything without a shirt on because it’s very distracting but that’s not love. That’s begrudging friendship with a well-toned idiot.”

Gendry smiled, finally taking his hands away so she could move of her own free will. “If you say so, m’lady. I will just have to stop loving you then.”

Arya rolled her eyes but something inside her was smiling. She’d been right. But her smile turned into a frown when she realized yet again, she was being cast down because of who she was. “Why, because I’m a Stark and you’re a bastard?”

“Because you’re an innocent,” Gendry answered, shaking his head. 

Arya didn’t know what that meant but she added it to her list of things about herself that she resented with a passion. “And you’re an idiot.”

“I must be,” Gendry agreed, standing up again. “Go to bed. I mean it this time.”

Sighing dramatically, Arya turned and got back into bed, unwilling to admit, for the moment at least, she was content to do as Gendry told her. “Goodnight, idiot.”

“Goodnight, m’lady,” Gendry said as he closed the door and she closed her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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